


Making It Through

by lovekernel



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Sickfic, Talking About Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 18:30:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20568935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovekernel/pseuds/lovekernel
Summary: Robin isn't well and Steve's taking care of her. They talk about their nightmares.





	Making It Through

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the longest one-shot I’ve ever posted. Perhaps it could do with some editing but I’m feeling indulgent so I’m leaving it ALL in.

Robin finished her homework at the Family Video counter. She slammed her biology book shut and regretted it as soon as the sound reached her ears and painfully reverberated. She had a nagging headache all day, paired with complete exhaustion despite the certainty she slept at least 10 hours the night before. She completed most of her homework in study hall earlier before a short but blissful nap. Steve took one look at her when she came in, soaked in rain and sweat from the cycle over from school, and he left her to her own devices at the counter. It was Keith’s day off, and a Friday, so the atmosphere was relaxed. The after-school rush was long over and the only noise in the store was the clack of plastic as Steve re-shelved tapes. 

Robin put her books away and came over to him. “I can finish these.”

“Did you get all your work done?”

“Yes, Mom.”

He handed his box of returns to her. “Here you go.” He pointed up at the television. “What should I put on?”

“I can’t do everything for you, Harrington.”

“But you always have an opinion! Come on, got any recommendations?”

“I don’t care. Whatever.”

“Plant reproduction getting you down? I can relate, it’s boring as hell.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re in a funk. What is it? The rain? School? Band? Oh!” Steve’s face lit up and he lowered his voice. “Is it a girl?”

“None of the above. I’m pretty tired today.”

“Maybe you should drop band.”

“You just miss me on Wednesdays.” She nudged up against Steve’s shoulder. “Admit it.”

“I’ll never understand the appeal of marching with a gigantic instrument in that stupid outfit. The hat, Robin!”

“It looks good to colleges.”

That shut him up. Robin felt bad for ending his spiel so abruptly. “You’re right about the hat though, it is stupid.”

“Thank you.” Steve reached into the returns box with his eyes closed and fished out a tape. “The fates have spoken,” he said and swaggered off to put the video on.

“Keep the volume low,” Robin called.

A couple of minutes later, the opening credits to _ The Muppets Take Manhattan _ played on the television.

“I’m gonna do some rewinds in the back! Yell if you need me!”

Only half an hour on the floor and Robin was tired of standing. She pulled down all the videos that needed new prices put on and sat on the ground to do it. Rolling all the old stickers into a ball as she removed them, she was lulled into a trance by the repetitive motion of the pricing gun. She thought of nothing in particular and was at complete peace until she came to an outdated sticker that seemed to be permanently adhered to _ Tron_.

It must have been burnished down by the knuckle of a bored employee. Maybe Steve, but more likely Robin herself. She scraped back the border with her thumbnail, never quite getting a grip and moving on to the next section until the whole edge had been ripped up. The sticker remained stuck. Robin suddenly found herself fighting back tears, and fought them again at the pitiful thought that a sticker could break her. She put the video down, she’d have to come back to it later.

“Break time?”

Robin didn’t hear Steve come up behind her and she didn’t look around. Her neck hurt.

“I’ve only been here for a couple hours.”

“More like four.” His voice was like a god’s, very loud and yet far away. 

“What?”

“You’ve been down here for like, over an hour.”

“Hm?” Robin rolled her head to the door. It was dark out. “Oh. Lost track.”

“Yeah, well, the place is empty. There’s been maybe six paying customers since five o’clock. We can spare a minute to ourselves.”

Robin thought about it, but couldn’t fathom expending the energy to get up just yet. “I’m good. We’ll be closing soon anyway.”

Steve walked away, steps creaking the floor beneath the carpet squares. “Fine. Do yourself a favor though and stand up. You’ll get gangrene if you sit on your legs like that.”

It took a few seconds for Robin to process. “That’s not how you get gangrene...” He was already in the back.

Robin convinced herself if she got this sticker off of _ Tron _ she would feel better. With the very tips of her nails she got a hold of the curled gummy paper and pulled slowly. It was coming off. Already she felt lighter and— it ripped. Robin whimpered and dropped the tape.

She rubbed her eyes vigorously. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry...

Footsteps came to her left with the crackle of a chip bag. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.” Robin kept her face in her hands.

Steve got down beside her. “Can I help?”

She almost said ‘no’, so she wouldn’t have to explain, but that would only invite more questions. “It’s really stupid.” She cringed at the brokenness of her own tone. “I can’t get this damn sticker off.”

Steve hummed, as if that was a normal thing to be on the verge of tears over. “I got it.”

He landed on the floor across from Robin and threw his chips into her lap. “Here, finish that.” Taking up the video, he dug into his back pocket and produced his keys. He began scraping.

“No, Steve, you’ll leave scratches.”

“Who cares? I’ll get the sticker off.”

“Keith cares...”

“Keith’s not here. Just you and me, Buckley. The dream team.” He laughed to himself. “Relax, I got this.”

Leaving it be, Robin leaned into her knees, resting her chin in her hand. She nibbled on chips and watched Steve make a mess of sticker pieces on the floor. He mirrored her, sitting criss-cross-applesauce, their knees touching. It took Robin right back to the bathroom floor in Starcourt. 

Steve held the case back from himself and admired it proudly before he showed it to Robin. “Good as new!”

There were clearly deep scratches in the plastic cover but the relief she felt meant Robin couldn’t make herself care. She took the video. “Thank you. I don’t know why it was such a big deal.”

Steve studied Robin’s complexion. She was almost gray save the red bloom in her cheeks and purple around her eyes. 

“You sure you’re okay?”

Robin nodded. “Yes. All better now, thanks to you.”

Steve watched her buff the scratches with the pad of her thumb. “You look like shit.”

“Wow, thanks Steve.”

“Sorry, I mean you look really tired. Pale.”

Robin weakly threw the balled-up chip bag at him and he caught it, still examining her face.

She sighed. “I may be coming down with something.”

“I think you’re already down.”

She looked confused. “What?”

“You—You sound like you’re sick. How do you feel?”

“I don’t know.” Robin sighed, “It keeps changing.”

“Hot? Cold?”

“Kind of cold, but it’s always cold in here.”

She looked warm but Steve chose not to argue. He wished Keith would tell them where the thermostat was. He looked at the thin shirt under Robin’s company vest. “Is that all you got besides your coat?”

“Don’t lecture me. I get hot by the time I’ve cycled over here.”

“Layer up then.” He stood. “Hang tight, I’ll get you something warmer before we brave the elements.”

“It’s not closing time yet.”

“It is now. I don’t know about you but I’m about done standing around an empty store.” Steve didn’t wait for an argument before walking out the door. Robin didn’t want to protest anyway. She put prices on the last few tapes left on the floor and was slotting them in the shelves when Steve came back in, a little damp from the rain. 

“The temperature’s dropped out there. There could be snow tonight.”

“No way it’ll stick though,” Robin said as he approached and handed her a sweater. 

“That’s all I could find but I left a blanket in the front seat.”

“I’ve got my bike—“

“Your bike’s in the trunk.”

Robin chuckled as she shrugged off her vest. She gave it to Steve, who stuffed it in his back pocket. “You’re such a mother hen.”

She held the rack behind her to get up off the floor. As soon as she stood she lost balance and Steve caught her arm. “All good?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Robin was dizzy and the pain in her head had tripled in strength, but that wasn’t why she toppled. “My legs fell asleep.”

“What did I tell you?”

“It’s not gangrene, dingus.” She groaned, “Okay, the feeling’s coming back now.”

“Alright, Bambi, put that sweater on, I’ll grab your coat.”

He went behind the counter and disappeared into the back room. Robin pulled the sweater on slowly. Everything ached, even the wool against her skin felt sore. With her head inside she was engulfed in the soft scent of aftershave left behind from the garment’s last wear. A scent she previously felt indifferent to, besides some awkward memories of clumsy kisses— now it made her feel safe. Since the 4th of July, just knowing Steve was close had an instant calming effect. It didn’t matter that there wasn’t anything to hurt them anymore. She felt more comfortable with him around, and she knew he felt the same way. It was embarrassing to admit it, luckily neither of them ever had to.

Robin shivered and drew the sleeves over her hands as she staggered across the store, fighting pins and needles all the way. 

Steve emerged with her coat. “Here we go.” He held it out for her, patient as Robin struggled to get her arms through the sleeves, and eventually guiding them for her. “You’re really out of it, huh?”

She took her time with the zipper. “Hm, I’ve been better.”

“Keys are in the car, heater’s on. Go get warm while I close up, I’ll be 10 minutes.”

“I’ll help.”

“No, go on, get out. I’ll be faster on my own.” Steve ushered Robin towards the door. He held it open and threw her hood up as he pressed her out.

“Wait, my bag.” 

“I’ll bring it to you. Go.” 

The cold wind stung Robin’s skin as she crossed the parking-lot. She shuffled as fast as she could to Steve’s car and was welcomed with a blast of warm air on opening the door. Genuinely grateful for Steve’s maternal instincts, she tucked the promised blanket around herself and settled back. The shivers stopped after a few minutes, and the hard ache from freezing air on her forehead melted into the dull pain across the rest of her skull. Robin closed her eyes against the glare of the street lamps.

Steve glanced around the dark parking-lot before speed-walking to his car. He locked the doors once he got in, threw Robin’s bag in the backseat and looked over at her. She was fast asleep with her head back, mouth slightly open, and her body slid halfway down the seat. Steve put the car in gear and drove them into the street, careful not to wake her. 

When they came to a stop-light he checked on Robin again. The blanket had fallen; he reached over and replaced it over her shoulders. A horn sounded and he jumped. Steve realized the light had already turned. He was on edge and it took him a second to react but he got going before the guy behind could plow into them. Robin was stirring, lifting her head and sitting up.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Unless it was the horn that woke you up, then it’s that asshole that owes you an apology. Like, there are no other cars out, just go around!” He looked in the rear view mirror and the car had turned onto a different street. Steve swallowed the rest of his rant; Robin wasn’t looking at him and she probably didn’t know what he was talking about. “How are you doing?”

She didn’t answer for a second. “Can you pull over?” Robin whispered, leaning forward.

“Huh?”

“Pull over,” she said firmly and closed her lips tight.

“Oh! One sec’, hang on.”

He pulled in to the side of the road; before he could come to a complete stop Robin was swinging her legs out the door. She sucked in fresh air. 

Steve switched off the ignition and waited, watching Robin’s breath condense and evaporate in the light from the car. 

Robin didn't look back until the heaving feeling in the back of her throat had eased off. 

“Sorry. False alarm. I didn’t want to ruin your car.”

Steve smiled briefly. “Thanks. Are you—”

“I just need a minute.”

“Yeah, sure. Take as long as you need.”

“I’m so sorry about this.”

“Why? It’s not your fault.”

“Shit,” Robin said, lurching forward. She retched and Steve could hear vomit leave her mouth and spill onto the ground, relieved she had her back to him— he was a sympathy vomiter. He held back his gags to rub her shoulder when she finally stopped and collapsed over her knees, panting. 

“Are you okay?”

Robin nodded, preferring to keep her mouth shut. 

“Alright, just relax, there’s no hurry.”

A couple of minutes passed and Robin stayed where she was, slowing her breathing and waiting for her body to stop shaking. Where they stopped was on the edge of some woods. In the dark she saw shapes moving in the trees. She felt like they were being watched. 

She pulled her legs back into the car and sat back. 

“Woah,” Steve said when he saw her face, much paler than before and coated in sweat. She was still trembling. He rearranged the blanket over her legs while he watched her expression, that of exhaustion and dread. 

Robin met his stare. “Can we go?” Her voice shook too. 

“Yeah, of course. Seatbelt.”. 

Robin tugged on the belt behind her and it got caught. She yanked it again to no success and dropped her hands defeatedly. She felt like she could cry again, she just wanted to get out of here.

Before she could despair, Steve reached over, gently pulled the belt down and buckled it for her. Robin mumbled thanks and looked away. She bit her lip, staring out into the darkness. 

“Rob? You good to go?”

“Yeah. Please, Steve.”

“Got it.” 

The car was silent as they drove through Hawkins. Robin recovered slowly, taking deep breaths and telling herself over and over that there was nothing out there. 

Steve kept glancing at her when he could and Robin knew he was waiting to ask what she was thinking about. When he looked at her again, Robin forced a smirk to reassure. “Eyes on the road, Harrington.”

He didn’t fall for it. “You really don’t look good.”

“Look, it’s probably just flu. Don’t plan my funeral.” She regretted it as soon as she said it. Jokes like that aren’t funny anymore; anxiety rose again. 

Steve passed right over it. “Flu can really kick your ass, though.”

Robin put her head against the window. The road made her skull vibrate and it was so cold it hurt, but it was solid. It grounded her. “I hear you, and I’ll be fine.”

***

Steve was able to park in the driveway in the absence of Mrs. Buckley’s car.

“Your mom working late tonight?”

“She’s having a ‘girly weekend’ with my Aunt Kim,” Robin punctuated with air quotes. 

“And you didn’t go with her?”

She rolled her eyes. “As fun as that sounds, no. Besides, I had to work.”

“So, you’re on your own tonight?”

“Yep.” Robin swept the blanket off her lap and reached for the door handle.

“Now, hang on a second. I can’t leave you alone like this.”

“You’re very sweet, Steve.” She opened the door.

“Robin.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“I will worry.” His voice turned small. Robin looked at him and saw in his eyes a fear she knew. A watered down version of how it felt when they were pulled apart by the Russians.

“Do you want to stay a while?”

He nodded and the fear disappeared. “Stay there.”

“Why?” Robin asked, but he was already out and shutting the door behind him. He walked around and opened her door, holding out his hand and smiling in that annoying way he did when he thought he was being charming.

Robin neglected his aid and got out on her own, but standing for a few seconds on the driveway all the energy she had left suddenly drained away. 

The front yard got darker and Steve’s concerned face faded into black spots. Her knees buckled under her and hit the ground. The rest of her body would follow until a solid support appeared and held her up. Robin barely registered Steve’s arms around her. She couldn’t hear his voice calling her name. The only thing she was sure of was squishy grass soaking into her jeans.

A few seconds later, her vision came back. Robin heard Steve’s voice as if she was underwater and felt his hand rub firmly between her shoulder blades.

She tried to speak and it came out as a groan. It didn’t even sound like her. 

“It’s okay,” Steve said in her ear. “You’re gonna be fine.”

“Steve...”

“I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Robin heard her own blood pumping far too fast, but against her head in the crook of his neck she could feel Steve’s quick pulse. She focused on that. 

After a couple of minutes, her senses returned. She felt terrible, but better than before. Robin pulled away but Steve kept her close in his arms. 

“I feel better now.”

“Yeah?” He observed her carefully. 

“Can we stand? My knees are wet.”

“Sure. Slowly though, okay?”

Robin nodded and let him take her weight as they got off the ground. They stood still for a moment as Robin swayed and Steve held her steady.

“Keys?” Steve asked.

She pulled them out of her coat pocket and he took them off her. He guided Robin’s arm around his neck and tightened his grip on her waist before leading them up to the front step. Robin felt weak for needing Steve to hold her up, but she was so glad he was there. He unlocked the door and helped her over the threshold, flipping on the light. 

“Will we make it to your room?” He was thankful the Buckley house was single-story. 

Robin shook her head and looked to the couch a few feet away. “I want to sit.” 

“Nah, we can do it. Come on, you should be in bed.”

“No, Steve...” Robin felt her legs go again and a rush of panic, but Steve was quick to tuck his arm under her knees and lift her up. She felt sick at the sudden movement, but before she knew it Steve was gently lowering her onto her bed. 

“There we go,” he said.

“I’m really sorry, Steve,” Robin mumbled, digging her chin into the pillow. “I didn’t see that coming.”

“Neither did I. Way to scare the shit out of me.” He laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

She looked sadly at him. 

“I’m kidding.” He stood at the foot of the bed and untied her shoelaces. “Don’t apologize, it’s not like you had any control over it.” He pulled off her converse and dropped them on the floor, then looked around, unsure what to do next. “Now, uh… I’ll get you some water. Stay there.”

He went to the kitchen and filled a mug; he couldn’t see Robin holding a big glass for very long. He checked the cabinets for medicine or a thermometer but didn’t find anything belonging to that category. 

Robin had dropped off again when he got back to her room. He sat down on the bed beside her and she opened her eyes.

“I know you only want to sleep right now, but you really got to get some fluids in you.” He helped her sit up, rearranging pillows behind her back. “And let’s take your coat off…”

Eventually they were settled and Robin was sipping from the mug. She tried to put it down half-full on her bedside table and Steve handed it right back to her. “Finish it. Gotta replace what you threw up.”

“You really do sound like a mom.” She sipped some more. “It’s kind of weird.”

“Am I the ‘Best Mom in the World’?” he said lightly, tapping the phrase painted on Robin’s mug. “What can I say? You know I’m maternal.”

“Yeah, but that tone is usually reserved for the children.” 

She sounded just as dazed and slow as she did when Steve picked her up.

He felt her forehead, Robin languidly rested against his hand. “Shit,” he said under his breath. “You weren’t this hot outside.”

Robin grinned. “It’s the lighting.”

“Yeah, you’re really funny.” Steve’s smile dropped fast. “I wonder what this is. Flu usually means coughing and snot, right?

“Some sort of virus maybe,” Robin offered. She snorted. “That’s what my mom says when she doesn’t know.”

“Whatever it is, it’s really doing a number on you.”

“Mm, but this too shall pass.”

“If it doesn’t kill you first.”

“Jeez, Steve, don’t be a drama queen.”

Robin ran her hands down her lap, stopping at the damp patches on her knees. “I need to change.” 

“Yeah.” Steve glanced at his own muddy jeans. He had landed in a puddle rushing to catch Robin. 

“Steve?” She looked pointedly at the door. “I need to change.”

“Oh! Right. I’ll just- hang on I’ll get you some clothes, don’t get up.” He looked around the room aimlessly. “PJs?

Robin pointed to the chest behind him. “Top drawer.”

“Top drawer...” He carefully avoided the side separated for underwear and plucked out a baggy t-shirt and flannel pants. He handed them over to Robin, who nodded approvingly before giving him the ‘time to leave’ face. 

He backed out of the room, “Call for me if you need help, okay?”

“I’ve been dressing myself a few years now...”

“Okay, just yell,” he said, closing the door but leaving it open a tiny crack for sound to travel. He leaned against the wall and looked at the pictures hanging in the hall. Some photos of Robin with her mom and dad, mostly pictures of Robin on her own. She was a child in all of them. Adorable, obviously. 

He listened to her breathe heavily and the bed springs move before one long sigh. 

“Okay, I’m decent.”

Steve stepped back into the room. Robin somehow looked even more exhausted than before. 

“Are you in pain? Does it hurt anywhere?”

“It’s just a headache.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“Aches and pains. Steve, I’d tell you if I thought it was appendicitis or something. I think I just have to sleep it off.”

“Do you have anything for it, like aspirin or something?”

"I don’t know, um… you can check the cabinet above the sink. In the bathroom.”

He did. “Nope! Nothing here.”

“I don’t know then.”

He came back and felt her forehead again.

“Stop looking so worried. I’ll be fine.”

“Do you think you’d be okay if I ran out to get some aspirin?

“I don’t need it…”

“I think it would be a good idea. You’d sleep better at least.”

“If it’s so important to you, go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. Go.”

“Alright. I’ll be twenty minutes tops. Don’t go moving around, just stay in bed till I get back.”

“Mmhmm.” She snuggled under the covers. “I hear ya.” 

Steve left Robin’s house, taking her keys with him. He checked his watch and got a move on, the pharmacy would close soon.

When he got there he waited in line with his aspirin behind an old man talking the pharmacist’s ear off about his hemorrhoids. Steve kept imagining Robin getting up and stumbling around the house on her own, and he lost his patience. He was ready to speak up with some choice words when the pharmacist gave the man his prescription and politely waved him off. “How can I help?” he asked Steve.

“Just this, please.”

The pharmacist was moving painfully slow, examining the bottle of pills before he rung it up. “Cold out tonight, huh?”

“Yeah it sure is,” Steve replied gruffly. The pharmacist gave him a look and he retracted his rude tone. “I’m sorry, I’m in a rush to get back to my friend, she’s sick.”

“What are her symptoms?”

“Uh, aches and pains, nausea. Fever, maybe? She fainted earlier.” 

“Huh, could be a bug. How high’s the fever?”

“I don’t know, I couldn’t find a thermometer. She felt pretty hot though.”

“Was she alert when you left?”

“Yeah, yeah she seemed okay. Tired though.”

“Ah, she’ll be alright then.”

Steve knew nothing truly lethal was happening to Robin, but he was relieved to know a higher authority thought so too. He sighed. “Any advice? I don’t really know what to do.”

“Yeah, you got that look about you. Hang on,” the man said and ducked under the counter. “A thermometer…” he placed it down, “and you should pick up a Gatorade or something. Electrolytes and all that. Keep her blood sugar up. And lots of water. It’ll pass, whatever it is, but if you’re really worried, call a doctor.”

Steve’s head snapped up at the last word. Calling a doctor had to be a very last resort. He paid and thanked the man, and followed the advice by grabbing a Gatorade from 7-Eleven on the way back. He’d been gone longer than twenty minutes, that was for sure. He sped back to Robin’s. Once he’d opened the door with her key, he heard something from down the hall. 

“Steve?” Robin’s voice was so quiet from her bedroom, he almost missed it. 

“I’m coming!”

“Steve!” This time it was louder and a little more frantic. He had a stab of fear she might have fallen but when he got to Robin’s room she was still in bed. 

“I’m here, I’m here, Robin.” He sat beside her and put his bag down. Her eyes were closed and her face was pinched. She was sleeping, clearly not well. 

“Steve… Steve!” 

He realized she couldn’t hear him at all. He shook her arm. “Robin?”

“No, no. Don’t touch him!”

Steve pushed Robin’s hair back and felt her temperature. If she didn’t have a fever before she certainly did now. She was drenched in sweat.

“No, don’t! Please!”

She wailed like she was in pain and Steve took his hands off her. Whatever was happening in her head was horrific. He could imagine, but it probably felt worse. 

He left her to run to the bathroom and look for a washcloth but he abandoned the search to save time. He took a random towel off the rack, ran it under cold water and came back to Robin. She still appeared to be gripped in terror, making choked sobs. Steve pressed the cold towel to her face, hoping it would either wake her up or help to bring the fever down. She let out a strangled cry and Steve felt her anguish in the pit of his stomach.

“Robin, everything’s fine, you’re safe. It’s a dream.” 

She kept whimpering but the cries were less frequent as Steve cleaned the sweat off her skin. She had been quiet for a few minutes when her eyes opened. Steve breathed a sigh of relief and removed the cloth, giving her a moment to get her bearings. 

“Steve?” Robin called out, her eyes unfocused. 

Steve took her hand and squeezed. “I’m right here. You’re okay.”

Robin stared as if she still couldn’t make him out. She patted down his arm until she came to his wrist and held it. It took a moment for Steve to realize what she was doing— feeling his pulse. Robin seemed satisfied and her face relaxed, but she didn’t let go of him. 

“Your bed’s damp,” Steve said, feeling the sheets beneath Robin. “We should move.”

“Mm,” she responded, shivering. Steve took it as affirmation and pulled back the comforter, helping her sit up. With his hand on Robin’s back, he could feel her pajamas were damp too, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. He got another blanket from her desk chair and wrapped it around Robin’s shoulders before he helped her to stand, a firm grip on her in case she collapsed. She leaned heavily on Steve as he walked them down the hall and to the living room. He pulled another blanket from the back of the couch down over Robin as she lay back, then he left her for a moment to find the bag from the pharmacy he dropped when he came in, and emptied the contents onto the coffee table. He took the thermometer out of its package and looked at Robin. “Aaahhhh…” he said, mouth wide open.

“Ahhhhh…” Robin confusedly copied Steve and he put the thermometer under her tongue and gently closed her jaw with a finger to her chin. 

“Three minutes.” He got up and got her a glass of water and when he came back he took the thermometer. “Err, one-oh-three. That ain’t great, Rob, but I don’t have to call…um. Yeah. Here, take these,” Steve said shaking aspirin out of the bottle. He propped Robin up with pillows, and held the glass for her as she swallowed the pills with water. “You’ll feel better soon, I promise.” 

Robin wasn’t really listening to Steve, but she felt comforted by his presence. He pressed a bottle up to her mouthand she moved her head away. 

“It’s Gatorade,” he said. “It’ll help.”

She put her shaky hands around the bottle and Steve let go. She drank, and it did appear to have restorative qualities. 

Steve put the T.V on low and stayed by Robin’s side on the floor by the couch as she dozed. 

The images on the television mixed with memories of Starcourt, lingering remnants of her nightmares, but all it took to keep her grounded in reality was the back of Steve’s head and the smell of his aftershave. She felt safer then. 

Steve switched off the T.V and looked at her. “Hey. Feelin’ any better?”

“Yeah, thanks Steve.”

He felt her forehead and grinned, clearly satisfied. “Is there anything I can do?”

Robin sighed and smiled at him. “Haven’t you done everything?”

“Anything else?”

Robin knew her request would sound pathetic, but she pushed the shame to the back of her mind. “Can I have a hug?”

Steve smiled.

“Don’t laugh at me.” Robin tried to be stern but she couldn’t help smiling.

“I won’t.” Steve sat down on the couch and wrapped an arm around Robin’s shoulders. She curled into his side and slung her arm across him.

They settled into silence. Robin was still kind of out of it, but Steve was thinking. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked her suddenly. “What you were dreaming about?”

Robin shook her head. “I’m sorry you were there for that,” she murmured.

“Please stop saying sorry. I’m glad I’m here. I always want to be here for you.”

They looked at each other with the intensity Steve’s statement created. Robin swallowed and averted her gaze from his, her eyes glazed and bloodshot. “I just don’t want to remind you…”

“Of what?” Steve asked, “Robin? Remind me of what?”

“I think you know.”

That hung in the air for a stretch. 

“We can talk about it, you know,” Steve said. “And not just kidding around about evil Russians, I mean, seriously talk about what happened.” 

Robin scoffed. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Be all condescending about opening up. It’s not like you’ve been talking about it.”

“Fair point. Look, I’ve wanted to, but after things started to go back to normal it felt like dangerous territory to bring it up out of the blue.”

“I have dreams where they shoot you in the head.” Robin spoke rather abruptly.

“Oh.”

“Glad I told you now, huh?”

“Yeah, I am actually. What else do you dream about?”

There was a pause before Robin answered. “Dustin and Erica. The soldiers take them.”

“What happens?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know. I never see them again. Somehow it’s worse not knowing.”

“We never have to know now.”

“Yeah... thank god.” Wet eyes met Steve’s. “What do you dream about?”

“Uh..."

"You get them too, don't you?"

"Yeah... every night."

"So, what do you dream about?"

"Same kind of thing.”

Robin’s eyes narrowed. “Specifically...?”

“Specifically stuff I’ll tell you about tomorrow.”

“Tease.”

He laughed. Robin’s wheezy chuckle petered out into steady breaths. Steve thought she had fallen asleep, until she spoke.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me.”

“You sure you want to hear it right now?”

She nodded.

“Well… I guess it’s the same for Dustin and Erica, only I see them dead. I don’t see them die, I’m always too late for that.”

Robin held him tighter.

“Since Dustin said that thing... that they didn’t hurt you because they were probably planning on using you for bargaining information, I’ve had nightmares about it. Russians beating you until you passed out while asking questions, and I could never give them the answers they wanted. And you know,” he said, “I don’t get why they thought I was the one with the answers, like, you were clearly the mastermind there.”

Robin gave a small laugh. “Sexism. Period.”

“Oh yeah, for sure! Damn sexist commies.”

“I’m sorry,” Robin said seriously.

“Don’t,” Steve replied, echoing her tone. “It’s okay. Those first few days it was nightmares about what was happening to you when we were separated, you alone with those soldiers…” He paused, he had no wish to elaborate. “So it’s kind of better imagining things I definitely didn’t witness, instead of things that could’ve happened when you were alone. I couldn’t be sure until you told me nothing happened. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. When they put us together you were passed out on the ground and I honestly thought you were dead. I freaked out, I didn’t think I could be so affected by it because we really didn’t know each other all that well, but by that point…” Her voice rose up at the end, and Steve knew what she meant. By that point enough had happened for them to be bound permanently. 

“I know. But hey, we made it through.”

“Yeah.” Robin smiled, “We did.”

“And it’s over now.”

That statement didn’t seem to ring true for either of them, and they both felt it. Sure, there wasn’t a giant flesh monster trampling all over town— that part was over. The funerals were done, reporters had long moved on from Hawkins and some semblance of normal life resumed. The effects of what happened on their minds though, that was never going away. They would probably always feel sick at the sound of fireworks, cautious of a Russian accent and needles were definitely going to be a problem going forward, but they had each other. They weren’t alone in this and they never would be. 

Steve noticed the arm around his stomach had loosened its hold. Robin’s chest was rising and falling with slow, even breaths. She slept peacefully, and Steve felt, for the first time in a while, like he could too.

**Author's Note:**

> Cheesy as heck? Yes. Friendship is beautiful.  
I need so much more Robin & Steve centric fics in my life, preferably without romances (you can’t move for harringrove these days and I’m afraid I just. don’t. get. it. I mean Billy brutally beat Steve up and they never spoke again, that’s no basis for a romance and the popularity of this ship is evidence of a bigger issue to do with the festishization of violence against gay men and even though we all know this to be true I should probably stop talking about it here before I get angry comments I have no interest in reading YIKES)  
Ahh gosh I love some good hurt/comfort both emotional and physical, and these two went through so much. Remember when they were in a car crash? I completely forgot about that until I rewatched season 3. How is anyone ok in this show??  
And because I feel I gotta say it: no matter how intimate this is, it’s completely platonic. Let us all give thanks and appreciation to the wonderful lesbian representation and healthy friendships between guys and gals that Stranger Things has bestowed on us.  
Thank you for your patience with this super long end note and thank you for reading!


End file.
